1828.] The White Devil ; or, Vittoria Corombona. 127 
She is condemned to be confined in “ a house of converts ;” and then 
she breaks out into that towering passion which so well becomes her 
truly high and proud (for we will not call it masculine) spirit. Still, 
however, she sticks to her text of innocence, to the last :— 
Vit. Instruct me, some good horse-leech, to speak treason ! 
For, since you cannot take my life for deeds, 
Take it for words! O, woman’s poor revenge, 
Which dwells but in the tongue! I will not weep. 
No—I do scorn to call up one poor tear 
To fawn on your injustice. Bear me hence, 
Unto this house of ——-what’s your mitigating title ? 
Mon. Of converts. 
Vit. It shall not be a house of converts. 
My mind shall make it honester to me 
Than the pope’s palace, and more peaceable 
Than my own soul. Though thou art a cardinal, 
Know this—and let it sometimes raise your spite— 
Through darkness diamonds spread their richest light. 
This reverse in the fortunes of Vittoria is as brief as it was sudden and 
unlooked for. It seems to have been used by the poet, partly with the 
view of aggrandising her after rise to the highest pitch of her ambitious 
hopes; but chiefly as the means of shewing forth his own splendid 
powers of execution in the scene we have just described. It is followed 
by the immediate news of Isabella’s death, and also of Camillo’s ; and by 
the secret determination of the Duke of Florence to work a full revenge 
upon Brachiano, who is more than suspected of their murder. The first 
step he takes towards this end, is not a very intelligible one ; and, in fact, 
it is one of those instances which occur in almost all our old plays, of the 
absolute indifference which their authors felt, as to the construction of 
their plots. To serve a momentary end, they never scrupled to involve 
the whole web of their work in a seeming difficulty ; because they knew 
that on any, or on no pretence of either propriety or necessity, they could 
in a moment bring matters right again. In the present instance, having 
got Vittoria into prison, for no very obvious end but that of producing a 
scene, he now makes Florence excite Brachiano’s jealousy towards her, 
for much the same purpose. This scene is scarcely less admirable than 
the former ; and it shews Vittoria in a new and still more striking point 
of view. In the first, we had little but a high and impenetrable boldness, 
standing in the place of ail other qualities, and (for the moment) satisfac- 
torily supplying them all. In the scene we are now alluding to, there is 
much of what was present in the former, and in addition, a passionate 
semblance of insulted and outraged affection, which lifts it to a pitch of 
true tragic dignity. We must not venture to extract from the scene 
alluded to, but proceed in our abstract of this portion of the play. 
After this passionate and most spirited scene, the Duke and Vittoria 
are reconciled, and she is rescued from her confinement, and attains her 
highest aim by marrying him. ‘The guilty great ones, having now, at 
the end of the fourth act, reached the haven of their hopes, the fifth act 
s with preparations for that fall which, as may be supposed, is the 
ophe of the tragedy. The Duke of Florence, disguised as a Moor, 
es at the court of Brachiano, accompanied by two other conspirators, 
hom have sworn his death. In this last act there is a vast fund 
extraneous matter, most of which we shall pass over, in conformity 
with our plan of considering and setting forth the character of Vittoria 
